Strange dreams last night; I don’t remember everything but upon waking I was able to recall a couple of strange scenarios: In one, Whitney got bitten on the face by another dog – Richard Crenna’s dog, oddly enough.  And he couldn’t remember whether his dog had had its rabies shot.  Then I was lost, wandering in the maze of a very strange neighborhood, looking for the car … we had to get to the vet’s office for a tetanus shot … very strange.  In the other scenario – and maybe it’s apropos to Chapter Two, it sure seemed like it was last night – I found myself in a lecture hall or a ballroom, where some experts were discussing British actors.  They were going on and on about how much more creative and inventive they are than Americans.  I suddenly stood up and interrupted with:  “What is your problem with Brad Pitt?  He gets the story across, doesn’t he?  What’s more important – that he is inventive and creative with his acting or that he tells the story?  That he gets across what the writer intended with his acting?”  Or something like that – you know how elusive dreams can be.  Anyway, I thought I’d throw that out there.  Some part of me – if you accept the theory that everyone in our dream is a representation of us – believes in what I said about Brad Pitt; that my job as an actor in Chapter Two is to help tell Neil Simon’s story--from Leo Schneider’s perspective—as Neil intended it to be told.   And, I guess if we take this dream business a step further--a dream analyst might say I’m Brad Pitt ... in my dreams.